


Sansa Baby

by sansalannistark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Office Party, Romance, Smut, happy holidays!, unrequieted love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: One time they didn’t act on their feelings and one time they did.Or, Jaime and Sansa and not being able to say how they feel at the Lannister Co. Winter Ball because they’re idiots.





	1. Mistletoe and Kisses (or lack of)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts), [mynameisnoneya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/gifts), [siriuslydraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslydraco/gifts).



> Some Christmas goodness! Parts 2 and 3 will be up later on before the 25th hopefully! I apologise for the cheesy content and title, Happy Holidays Jaimsas! :D

The first Winter Ball Sansa attends, she barely knows her way around the building, let alone her own heart. The event is something spectacular: glittering chandeliers flood the room with gentle blue light, candles frame the walls and a giant tree stands tall in the corner. Sansa still manages to maintain her Stark attitude though, rolling her eyes at the miniature Lannister Lions embossed on the red and gold baubles. It may be the social event of the year, as Maragery is so keen to remind her, but it is also so sickeningly Lannister. The atmosphere exudes the very essence of wealth and power and beneath the bright smiles and colourful dresses and twinkling champagne flutes Sansa can see the truth. Their smiles are sham, their clothes bought like their manners and the champagne flutes merely a status symbol. It does not mean however that she does not love the party. It is more than she ever might have dreamed of as a girl in Winterfell’s cold halls.

Sansa dances with Maragery and allows Brienne to whisk her away at moments to mingle with associates, friends and wealthy suitors from every corner of Westeros. Eventually, she the smile droops and she makes her excuses as Brienne seeks out her father and Maragery is twirled about by yet another young bachelor. Sansa sighs, fingering the material of her silver gown as she sips at the champagne. She is hardly aware of his presence until he coughs, whereupon she promptly jumps, almost dropping her glass in the process.

Jaime Lannister’s devilish green eyes find hers, glinting as he watches her recover herself. “Evening, J- Mr. Lannister.”

“There’s no need to be so formal, _Sansa_.” He has ignored her slip, so clearly he’s in a charitable mood. Sansa tries to disguise the shudder as he drawls out her name. “Having fun?”

The catlike look is back, and she Steel’s her resolve. As much as Jaime is, well, the man she is ridiculously in love with, he’s also an arrogant twat and a snidely arsehole and she won’t let him win. Perhaps it’s dangerous, playing this game, but there’s no harm when there’s nothing there, right?

“I’m having a blast,” she quips, settling for a smirk. Jaime’s lips part, grinning now as he studies her.

“Yes you look as if you are.”

“I’ve seen you looking quite a lot.”

“ _Have_ you, Sansa?”

Sansa Swallow’s thickly, gulping her champagne back. She’s a fool and an idiot to start such an exchange with him, this vexing, beautiful man that she can’t have. She’s about to make her excuses when Jaime glances up and his eyes flash.

“Well well well. How curious,” Jaime says, gleeful. Sansa risks a look above them, taking in the springs of frosty green leaf that hang above them and suddenly wishes to be murdered, right here, right now.

Jaime steps toward her and instinctively she moves back. This is the _real_ game. Before Jaime can do anything, Sansa gathers her courage and slides past a nearby group, disappearing into the dancing crowd. Once she’s gone, her lungs manage to find air, but her eyes miss the look of hurt that flashes across Jaime’s face and the ache writ in his eyes as they wilt and darken.

Jaime stares after her, feeling angry and disappointed - after all, he knows how Sansa feels. _Coward_ , he thinks uncharitably but so is he, confronting her like this under the mistletoe.

_Perhaps next Christmas, if you decide to be less of an ass and more of a man._ He can only hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay I changed this to two parts because it worked better. Also, I’m sorry for the mess this turned out to be and the late update! Happy New Year! Hopefully I’ll have more time this year to work on the 5 or so drafts I have waiting in my docs, glaring accusingly at me! Enjoy lovelies :))

  
Jaime could laugh with relief when his brother announces in November that the office will be doing Secret Santa.

It is even funnier when it is Sansa’s name he pulls out the bag. While his coworkers scratch their heads and spend weeks muttering and hissing about the difficulty of finding the right gift, Jaime already knows what he’ll be buying Sansa.

Call him obnoxious but since his fuck-up last Christmas, he’s promised himself to be less of a twat about her, so when he wraps the gift, he cannot quite muster the shame of his unconventional gift. It will be worth it when he sees the blush on her beautiful face.

When the evening comes, the only thing Jaime has his mind on is the gift in the silver wrapping paper. Tyrion hands out their gifts and Jaime hovers in opening his when he spies Sansa picking at the wrapping on her own as she chats to Margaery. When she peels back the paper, his breath catches and he stills, watching as she removes the gift. Margery squeals and - just as he had predicted - a deep blush colours Sansa’s cheeks as Margery giggles, peppering he’d friend with questions. Jaime isn’t at all surprised: the crimson panties and bra he bought were a risk but one he’s glad to have made. When Sansa continues to giggle, dangling the lacy briefs from her finger Jaime all but groans, though he’s awkwardly interrupted by his brother.

“Need I ask?” Tyrion just shakes his head, downing what’s left of his whiskey and following Jaime’s eyeline, ending with a sudden sigh Jaime is all too used to.

“Sansa Stark. You bought panties and a bra for Sansa fucking Stark?”

Jaime almost laughs: he hasn’t heard such disbelief from his little brother in years, and he’s proud that he’s a managed to outdo the almighty Tyrion Lannister, seducer of whores.

“Yes I did. What of it?”

“Subtle, Jaime, very subtle,” Tyrion mutters under his breath.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to be subtle.”

“Yes, I can see that. You’ve wanted her since, what, last Christmas? Before that?”

Jaime lets out a low sigh, taking a swig from his glass as he watches Sansa find Brienne in the crowd. He doesn’t know how to answer Tyrion. How long _has_ he been infatuated with her?

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I almost kissed her last year. We both got caught under the mistletoe and I wanted to, Tyrion, I wanted to, but I’m not so terrible as to flirt with a girl half my age.”

“Who said it was terrible?”

Jaime winces, finishing his glass with a crime. “Father, society...”

“Fuck society, and as for father, I’m sure he’ll be pleased. Sansa is exactly the sort of girl he wanted you to find.”

“Whatever you say, Tyrion.”

“Jaime, don’t stand there like a fucking lemon. Go.” Tyrion stares at him, wafting his hands in a manner that Jaime takes to be impatience, so he sets his empty glass down and approaches the redhead.

Sansa notices him approach only at the last second but the yelp of surprise and the poor effort to conceal her gift show her embarassment. Margaery rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she disappears into the crowd, Brienne staring for a moment between Jaime and her friend before she follows the Tyrell girl.

“Sansa.”

“Jaime.” It almost makes him laugh - this little game they play, if it weren’t so bloody impossible to win.

“Well, what were you gifted?”

“Nothing much.”

“Nothing much?” He quirks an eyebrow, staring at her until she narrows her eyes and faces him.

“Why don’t you tell me what you got?” She quips, one hand resting lazily on her hip. At this point, he can physically feel how she’s affecting him and would have considered slamming her against that wall, if he wasn’t so entranced by her.

“That would be a little difficult, seeing as I have yet to open it.”

“Oh?”

“I was rather more interested in you. What on earth could make sweet Sansa Stark blush so?”

He thinks she knows - there is an intensity behind her blue eyes that chases down the identity of her admirer, the bearer of her raunchy gift. He half expects her to say it, or to ask him if it was he who gave her the lingerie, but instead she surprises him, as she oft does.

“Open yours.”

Sansa’s face is dead set, but it doesn’t hide the way her fingers fidget on her hips and the anxiety in her eyes.

Jaime takes the package from his pocket and begins to work at the wrapping. When he finally works the bow loose and divests the gift of its gold paper, he cannot help but let out a gasp as the gift is revealed.

Handcuffs. Sansa Stark has given him handcuffs.

The little vixen is smirking, crossing her arms to reveal the lingerie still in her hand.

“Sansa-“

“I know what you want. You know the feeling is mutual...” Sansa’s smile falters a little and her fingers trace the lingerie absently, running her fingers along the lace. He’s transfixed by the motion. He can’t find it in himself to move but Sansa must find the courage he can’t because that wicked smile resurfaces.

“You seem a little flushed Jaime?” She enquires. That damn smirk remains on her lips.

“Then perhaps I ought to take a walk.”

“Perhaps you do.” Sansa regards him for a second but whatever sudden worry her momentary hesitation provokes - that she will leave as she did before - dissipates when she winks at him. Before he realises, he’s following her to the stairs, to the rooftop, to heaven.

————

“Fuck Sansa.... fuck, you’re so tight...”

Sansa moans lowly, her slender fingers clenching the back of his neck tighter as he thrusts onto her heat, panting low against her neck as she presses back against him in pleasure, burning up around him.

“Jaime. Harder. I want it harder. Please,” she begs, her forehead resting on his shoulder. Jaime shifts his hand from her waist to the bench, giving himself leverage as he thrusts harder, pushes her further. Sansa keens around him, howling as she comes. She finds her release only seconds before he does, pulling out of her to find his own release. When he has gathered his breath, she sits up, sliding a hand to his thigh to anchor herself before he reaches out and tugs her to him. The bench creaks ominously and he sniggers even as he holds on to hope that it will not break beneath them.

“Look,” she whispers, gesturing to the surface beneath the bench. “We melted the snow.”

Jaime laughs, chuckling carelessly into the cool winter’s air that ripples across the rooftop. When he looks at her, his own grin is reflected back at him and he is on his feet immediately. “Feel like melting some more snow, sweetling?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
